Bright Morning Star (10 page)

Bonnie smiled. She had noticed the little boy that looked closer to her sister Reagan’s age of five than Mary Anne’s seven years.

“Was he a good dancer?” Claire asked.

“Very good, he was a little short but he could move to the music. I also danced with the boy from the last wagon. He was tall, but he wasn’t any good at all.”

“Why didn’t you dance, Bonnie?” Mother asked from the other side of the little girl.

“Well, first, I am married. Second, they were all too, too short for me.” The others laughed. “And third,” she hid a deep yawn behind her hand, but didn’t reveal the third reason. She heard the other women yawning too. In her mind’s eye, she imagined swirling about the fire in the arms of a handsome Lieutenant while her brothers stood with the fiddler, singing the tunes.

As Claire settled down to sleep, she tried to bring up images of each of the men she had danced with. She wasn’t a writer like Lynne, whose letters had kept them all enthralled with her stories. But she decided she would list each man she met along the journey, the single ones, and after their name, all the particulars she could learn. Sleepily she opened her journal and by candlelight listed the single men at the dance, even the Raglon one. Mary Anne turned away, muttering about the light while Mother and Father quickly began to snore.

When Claire tried to recall their particulars to record on the line beside their names, only one face came to mind. Instead of the suitable young men, all she saw was a handsome man with neatly groomed blonde hair and a trim mustache. His smile flashed briefly, as he hooked her arm with his to spin her in one circle of the reel.

Claire flounced down from the wagon, wearing her pink gingham dress and its matching bonnet. Although not as durable as the tan linsey-woolsey or as stylish as her favorite green dress, it was still one of her favorites from home. Last night she had met the other maiden ladies as they discussed what to sing after dinner. Bonnie had offered several tunes but the girls had looked to Claire for a final decision. It had buoyed her self-esteem, and she had immediately taken a liking to the timid cousins from Nauvoo, Illinois.

They had been impressed by her sense of fashion and had invited her to visit as soon as possible. She would meet with the first girl, Faye, as soon as breakfast ended. The other cousin, Dorothy, in the afternoon. Like having a full dance card last night, having other ladies to talk with filled her with pleasure. Although she had Mother, Bonnie, and Bella, after all these weeks together, there was little new left for them to share. Dorothy in particular had asked for news about fashion and Claire planned to take her last Godey’s magazine. Of course it was four months old, but she had the stack of duplicate fashion flyers the buyer had given her after modeling for him in St. Louis.

Impatiently, Claire noticed that the men were still not back. They spent longer setting up camp each evening and were slower to roll out of bed each morning. She complained as Bonnie cooked breakfast, and the tall girl pointed out the obvious. “We’re part of a bigger wagon train now, more people and animals to water at the end and start of each day. At least it gives me more time to cook and prepare the meals.”

Although Claire had told herself she would help Bonnie more, it was hard to change her habits. The day Bonnie had ridden off with the twins to visit her brothers, Claire had discovered exactly how much work the woman did. But where it was hard on Claire, Bonnie made everything easily and with a smile. Claire fumbled at everything and took twice as long. One day of walking beside the big oxen had exhausted her for a week. So unless Bonnie complained, Claire wasn’t going to interfere and hurt her friend’s pride.

Besides, sometimes she did the dishes, which seemed generous enough. She also helped to fetch water each evening. All of them had a series of chores, even Mary Anne.

One of Father’s new chores was assigning a position for each wagon in the longer train. The trail dust grew thicker the farther back in the line a wagon rolled. So unlike some, Father forced the group to allemande back and let the tail wagon move to the front each day. Once a group had ridden at the back, they saw the fairness of the system. Since everyone hadn’t, there were a few grumblers like the Raglons.

Grass was becoming scarcer because they were on a part of the trail where wagons had been moving through for nearly a year. The trail was well defined, with clear watering holes and camping sites. But that meant that the land around those sites was pretty closely cropped. Father argued and seemed to have convinced the majority of the men that they would be better off, unhooking their animals and leading them to water, then bringing them back to the uncropped grassland to graze at night. But the plan meant the women would have more steps to walk to carry water and that more men would be needed to guard the animals. Again there were complaints.

The Raglons pointed out that every group didn’t have a pair of boys and well-trained dogs to help them take their animals to water and to herd them back to the newer sites. Father insisted they were lucky, so far there had been plenty of water for the stock. They better appreciate the fact and make sure they kept their barrels full for the time when the trail didn’t end at a river or stream. So now, the men took the time to top off the barrels first each day. Bonnie no longer had to drive a team and was trying to figure out what to do with her new freedom. She gladly took over that chore for their party and the Lambtons.

Claire didn’t care. She was delighted to have other women to talk with on the train, ones who weren’t married and tired each day from tending children. Unlike Bonnie, they were eager to talk about potential marriage material. She intended to rate the prospects among the men on the train, the troopers who had ridden through, and have someone else to speculate with her about the miners and ranchers waiting ahead.

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Claire stomped back from her visit riding beside Faye Brewer. Father and Henry had both offered their mount so she could ride, but she had laughed at the idea. Instead, she just remained by the trail until the sixth wagon rolled up and let Faye’s father help her to climb up beside his daughter. The two girls had sat with Claire’s log between them on the seat, giggling as they came up with descriptions and nicknames for each of the eligible bachelors. Cobb of course became corn cob, Gerald, with his long wild hair became Geraldine, George, King George.

Claire was surprised the girl had already taken a liking to one young man. When she learned it was the Raglon boy, she had to bite her tongue to keep from warning her away. If it were Bonnie or Lynne, she would have confided what he had said to her two days before. But since she didn’t know if Faye might have formed the same opinion of her character, Claire was afraid to say anything.

When, an hour had passed, she asked help in climbing down from the wagon. Mr. Brewer seemed a little annoyed by the request, but did stop his oxen so she could dismount. The wagon behind him yelled and someone farther back swore. Claire was sure it was the Raglon’s voices she heard complaining. Holding her head up and thanking him, she hurried to reach her own wagon. But in the soft churned trail, it was hard to walk fast. It seemed like the wagons and oxen were moving faster than she was.

Annoyed, Claire abandoned the road bed and climbed up onto the shoulder. Here the grass was tall and her gown kept snagging on weeds and brush. It really wasn’t any easier to walk fast there. As the Brewer’s oxen passed her and she saw Faye looking up at her in surprise, Claire began to panic. She was afraid the Raglon’s wagon would pull up beside her and that horrid Raglon man might accost her again, Claire did her best to walk faster without falling or dropping back down into the rough dirt of the road bed.

It didn’t help that the people in the wagons that had greeted her before as they passed, now wanted to have conversations about the most trivial things. “Didn’t she think the day was lovely? Had she had a nice visit with her new friend? What was that she was carrying in her arms?”

Claire had been taught good manners, so she made small talk with each group as she drew alongside. She could feel the sun pinking her cheeks even with the bonnet on. It didn’t have the full brim and dust ruffle in back the way her ugly western poke bonnet did. For the first time she wished she had worn the dreadful thing. At least if she had grabbed her parasol, she would have been able to use it as a cane, or to shield her complexion from the hot sun.

By the time she reached the Lambton’s wagon she was breathless and embarrassed. She could feel the perspiration darkening the thin gingham of the dress bodice, knew her face must be ablaze from the heat and her exertions. Bella looked up in surprise as Claire called to her and tried to hurry past. Of course, now Bella wanted to talk to her. Claire tried to rush without panting, held her arms tight against her waist as she answered the same inane questions.

“Did you have a nice visit with your new friend, what was her name, Faye Brewer?” Bella asked.

“Faye Brewer. Yes, we had a lovely visit.”

“It’s a nice day for a walk isn’t it? Not a cloud in the sky.”

Claire swallowed, looked up at the blazing sun and almost stumbled when she looked back down. Her skirt snagged again on a tall weed. Claire noticed in disgust it was the horrible plant Bonnie called beggar lice. It would leave tiny little triangular burrs along her petticoat and skirt hem. She flipped the skirt free and looked to see she was right, They ran in a long jagged row across the hem of her best slip.

In horror, Claire looked up to see Henry riding back toward her. Before Tom at the ox’s shoulder or Bella in the wagon seat could ask about the book she clutched tightly, Henry called out to her.

“Hold up a minute, you can ride Sue back to your wagon.”

Bella made a hissing sound and Claire wondered if her face could look any redder. “No thanks,” she murmured. “I’m almost there, and you know I hate to ride.”

Ignoring her protest, he extended an arm and swept her onto the horse, sitting in his lap. Claire closed her eyes, prepared to faint dead away with humiliation.

Henry managed to turn the horse on the trail and ignore his wife’s protest to trot up beside the Wimberley wagon and hand her off onto the bench as her mother scooted over. “There you go. Next time don’t be so pig-headed. Take one of the horses.”

He turned around again and pounded back to post along beside his angry wife.

Claire looked across to read horror in her Mother’s eyes as well. She couldn’t believe Henry Lambton had dared to manhandle her and talk to her in that tone.

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That night, James Temple, or bean pole, as she and Faye had named him, came to call with his friend George beside him. Very politely he asked her Father if he might walk around the outside of the wagons with his daughter and her companion. Claire was as surprised as was her father, but Mother seemed pleased with his manners. She invited the two self-conscious young men to join them for coffee and bread pudding, but both were too well-mannered to accept. Instead, they walked off as though they had to inspect the cattle peacefully grazing between the bend of the wagons and the ribbon of the river winding behind them.

Bonnie fussed and Mary Anne volunteered to go instead. Mother laughed and insisted the little girl stay to help her wash up while the big girls went for a walk with their callers. As they left the firelight, George carrying the lantern, he held Claire’s elbow. Behind them, Bonnie fell into step beside James. Like the bay horses or the cattle dogs, they were matched pairs in height. As soon as they reached the shadows, James moved up to take Claire’s other arm while Bonnie and the dogs trailed along behind.

All three were very proper. The conversation was about the fun they’d all had dancing the night before. James turned to include Bonnie when he thanked the ladies for the wonderful music. Bonnie sniffed in answer. The man turned back to trying to draw Clair’s attention. He really had no competition. For whatever reason, the short but handsome George seemed to hold some animosity toward the lovely little Blonde.

They completed the big arc, then turned and started back. Finally, there was a pause in conversation when they were about half-way around the circle. They could hear the men back at their own campfire arguing.

“What did Miss Faye have to say about the dance?” George’s question surprised Claire. She looked over into his blue eyes as he lifted the lantern so he could watch her expression as she answered.

For a moment, Claire felt annoyed. How dare this little man prefer someone as plain as Faye Brewer to her? Especially since she was the only woman on the train who was the exact height he was. They even shared the same coloring, pale, fair haired and blue-eyed. Several people had remarked about what a cute couple they made. Then she realized how silly her feelings were and laughed.

“She had a wonderful time dancing, too. I think she found someone she favored,” Claire said.

But no matter how the men asked, she refused to betray the other girl’s confidences. “You’ll just have to call on her tomorrow and ask her for yourselves,” Claire told them as they neared their own wagon. “Of course, you’ll probably have to walk out with her, with her father or mother as the chaperone.”

“No need,” James said. We’ll walk her and her cousin Dorothy about, same as Gerald and Cobb have done this evening. They’ll be coming to pay their respects to you here, you see.”

Claire became annoyed and pulled her arm free from James. They could hear voices near the fire. For a moment she wanted to make a big ruckus, demand why the two men assumed she would be home if they called. The nerve of these two, to think that after one meeting she would be pining for their courtship. Instead, she bristled, “How did you decide between you, who would call on whom this evening?” she asked. At least the two men had the grace to look embarrassed.

She blushed as she imagined the answer. Maybe these two were the losers of the argument, the ones who had to call on her first. As to how they decided, did they flip a coin, or as she suspected, for this dishonest foursome, dice or cards would be their answer. She felt delighted to have a reason to scold them for whatever they answered. But she heard Henry yelling and tilted her head to listen, raising her hand to shush their response to her question.

The argument stopped as the young people grew closer. Claire’s mother made her own shushing sound in warning. James stepped back and took Bonnie’s arm as they entered the clearing.

Instead of feeling flattered, Claire felt disappointed in the quality of her first suitors. Cheeks pink, she stormed across to bend and kiss her mother’s face. Then abruptly, she said good night to all, and turned toward their wagon.

The men bowed like gentlemen and said Goodnight, but clearly they were aware they had insulted the girl, although neither was sure how they had done it. They moved quickly out of the firelight and around inside the temporary corral back to their own campfire and wagon. As soon as they had left the circle, the argument resumed.